Classic Poem

Surely your heart was glad when you penned the note that this morning
Came like a welcome guest, as the sunlight broke o'er the meadows;
Bathing in glory the hills, and smiling and peaceful homesteads
Thickly studding the slopes with their dark green background of forest;
Gilding the crest of the woods, albeit the twilight shadows
Far in the hollows below with seeming reluctance yet lingered;
Shone on the rippling waves of the stream that winds in the distance,
Rounding the base of the hills till lost to sight in the valley.
Lovely indeed is the earth in the early hours of the morning,
When the new-born day spreads its radiance over the landscape,
And nature emerges refreshened and smiling and joyous
From the likeness of death the dark-robed night had cast round her:
Then is the heart enjoined to pour forth its paeans of gladness,
Thanksgiving songs to God, who, in infinite wisdom,
Fashioned the lovely world and robed it in exquisite beauty,
Giving his children the right to possess and inherit,
Right to culture and till and enjoy the fruits of their labor.
Blessed is he whose life fulfills the great end of creation:
Whose days are faithfully spent in keeping God's holy commandments,
Thus, for its home in heaven, preparing the spirit immortal.